Page 62 of Dear Adam
“Great. So it’s settled. I’ll see you then,” he says, and bends to kiss me on the cheek, his wintergreen breath lingering. I’m so tired, so mentally exhausted, I don’t even move after he’s gone. Distantly, I hear the bells on the door jingle, and Emma snaps her fingers in front of my face.
“What was that all about?” Emma asks. “Why did you just agree to that? How did he even know Levi was out of town?”
“He probably doesn’t even know that Levi left,” I say, which I know doesn’t answer her question. That’s simply how Hudson is, showing up and flexing every chance he gets. He probably would’ve asked me with Levi standing right here. “And why shouldn’t I have agreed? Levi’s not here. Hudson isn’tthatbad. We’ve probably made him out to be a lot worse than he is.”
“Aly, he doesn’t wear socks with his loafers. And don’t get me started on how small his feet are. I know for a fact I saw those loafers for sale at Ann Taylor Loft.”
Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I looked at the same pair. “I can tolerate one evening with him if it means I get my parents off my back for a little while. Besides, it can’t be any worse than going alone.”
Emma sucks in her lower lip and gives a noncommittal hum.
“It’ll be fine,” I say, unsure if I’m reassuring her or myself.
When I get home, Pretzel is tucked under the covers of my bed. She looks so pitiful, and I know if she had thumbs, she would’ve turned on a sappy break-up film.
“Do we need to watch a rom com?” I ask. She side-eyes me, then lets out a small yip. “I’ll be right back,” I tell her and run to the kitchen. I grab all the chocolate I can find, a box of tissues, and the carton of Milk Bones. I scoot in beside her and toss her a bone, which she happily licks up. Even though it’s seventy-eight degrees and the middle of summer, I press play onThe Holidayand snuggle next to Pretzel.
“Do you miss Hank, girl?” I ask as I scratch behind her ears. At the mention of Hank’s name, her ears perk up and she looks around the room for him. “I miss him, too,” I whisper and wish for the millionth time—for Pretzel’s sake of course—that dogs could FaceTime.
Pretzel snuggles herself deeper into the crook of my arm, and I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I would’ve had to go through these past few weeks without her. And to think, at the very beginning of our relationship, she took every opportunity to cause trouble for me. And now, she’s snuggled up next to me; the shift is almost unthinkable. We’ve become a team.
I snap a picture to send to Adam, and his phone lights up on my nightstand with my incoming text. I push aside all thoughts of Levi, open another chocolate, and burrow deeper into the covers. Pretzel and I are simply two heartbroken girls, cuddling our sorrows away.
Chapter twenty-nine
Levi
“Ithinkthat’sthelast of it, don’t you?” I ask Glenda.
“You tell me,” she replies. “You’re the one who packed everything.”
She’s been watching me carry boxes to a moving van for the past three hours, and giving her unsolicited opinion on everything instead of lifting a finger to help. I guess I shouldn’t be too upset. She’s the one driving the moving van from California to South Carolina.
“Are you sure you're up for this drive?” I ask. Not only has she agreed to drive the entire thirty-five hours, but she’s also taking Hank along with her since I recently found out the hard way he’s not the best flier.
“Oh yeah,” she says, waving a dismissive hand. “I was a truck driver before I met you, you know.”
“Your resume said you were an office manager for an eye doctor,” I say skeptically.
“Is that what she put?” Glenda said absently as she stroked Hank’s head. “I told Teenie to make it sound believable, and I guess it did the trick.”
You know those moments in the movies when a record scratches and everything comes to a standstill? That’s what happened to me.
“Teenie?” I ask. “As in…my mom?”
Glenda’s hand flies to her chest with a gasp, and when she turns to me, her eyes are wide as saucers behind her glasses.
“Shoot!” Glenda says. “You were never supposed to know!”
“Know what?” I ask through gritted teeth.
With a world-weary sigh, Glenda says, “Your mom and I have known each other for years.”
“What?” I sputter. “How?”
“I used to live in Charleston, you know.” My eyebrows raise clear to my hairline, but before I can ask more questions, Glenda continues. “Your mom and I met at Stitch and Sip.”
“You were…” My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my gosh.That’swhy you looked so familiar when I interviewed you.”
